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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24070552">Four Scenes In, On, or Around Portia’s Car</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Julius Caesar - Shakespeare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthdays, F/F, First Kiss, Ice Cream, Tattoos, basically a queer coming of age movie, i’m spelling it portia, this is for m. she knows what she fuckin did, toxic relationships (a little. not the main pairing don’t worry)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:55:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24070552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Scene one. Portia’s car. Late evening.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Calpurnia Pisonis/Porcia Catonis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Four Scenes In, On, or Around Portia’s Car</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940421">some of us have vices</a> by Anonymous.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is sort of in the same universe as this fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940421 which is also mine. for best reading experience play your favourite gay yearning songs as you read or 2012 marina and the diamonds, both vibe.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>i.</p><p>Portia taps the edge of her can against Calpurnia’s. “Happy birthday, asshole.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Calpurnia says, taking a sip of her lukewarm iced tea and sticking her head out the window. “Where to next?”</p><p>“Hm. Well, we could go to the park, get pizza, and I could walk you home, or we could go get ice cream and sit in the empty parking lot until a godforsaken hour,” Portia suggests, already turning into the drive-through line. </p><p>“Well, it’s a difficult choice, but I feel like ice cream,” Calpurnia says. “Only if they’re not out of cherry sauce.i”</p><p>“You’re the only person who <em> likes </em> it. Hey, yeah, medium cherry sundae with extra sauce, green slushie, small chocolate dip cone,” Portia says, leaning out the window. Calpurnia smacks her gently on the shoulder. </p><p>Portia insists on very loudly and very poorly singing her edgy music all the way through the drive through, which makes Calpurnia blush, but not in a terrible way, if she’s honest. </p><p>“So,” Portia says, an hour later, taking a scoop of Calpurnia’s melted sundae with her finger, “how’s seventeen so far?”</p><p>“That’s gross. But it’s good, so far. If the year treats me as well as you do, I’ll be rich and famous.” Calpurnia grins at Portia and steals a sip of her drink. </p><p>“Hey! Also, shit, almost forgot. Check the glove compartment.” Calpurnia fiddles with the clasp for a moment before opening it. </p><p>“Is it the empty family size chip bag, broken pencil, pocket knife - <em> pocket knife?! </em>, dead flowers, or this?” Calpurnia holds up the teal box, carefully lifting the lid.</p><p>“I hope those are the right ones - really shocking that there were more than one set of mini paint palette earrings, but I tried,” Portia mumbles, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. </p><p>Calpurnia makes a tiny noise of appreciation, then wraps Portia in a tight hug.</p><p>“They’re perfect. Thank you, Portia,” Calpurnia exclaims, squeezing Portia’s shoulders and burying her head in Portia’s shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>ii.</p><p>“I’m proud of you, Cal,” Portia says, giving her a high five as she stares at her leg. The delicate lines of her new tattoo are crisp against her skin. It was Portia’s design - a small flower cluster with thin, even lines. It lies upon the inner base of Calpurnia’s long calf, the stem right above her ankle. </p><p>“I’m glad you talked me into this.” Calpurnia smiles. “I love it. What did you say it was again?”</p><p>“Clovenlip toadflax,” Portia responds, biting her lip. </p><p>“Hm.” Calpurnia cocks her head and pushes her hair back over her shoulder. Portia sips her coffee and leans back in the seat. “Why that one?”</p><p>“I was doing studies and that one turned out the best,” Portia says, biting her tongue and hoping Calpurnia believes her. “It’s pretty. Like you.”</p><p>“Aw, thanks,” Calpurnia mumbles, taking a bite of her post-tattoo donut, and giving Portia her biggest, widest grin. </p><p>Portia sits in the backseat of her car that night, giving herself the terrible, self-done rendition of Calpurnia’s tattoo along the side of her thigh. </p><p> </p><p>iii.</p><p>“Shit, Cal, why didn’t you tell me?” Portia cranks the volume down and haphazardly tosses her fries onto the dash. Salt skitters onto Calpurnia’s lap. </p><p>“It wasn’t - it’s not important,” Calpurnia protests, staring out the window at the pinprick streetlights. “We both were in a bad mood, he had a rough day, it doesn’t…”</p><p>“I’m going to kill him. I swear to God. Show me,” Portia says, wiping the salt off her fingers. Calpurnia gestures with her left shoulder. Her eyes stay fixated out the window. Portia gently rolls up the short sleeve of Calpurnia’s shirt. </p><p>“Look, it’s nothing, and he didn’t even do it, I just hit it on the doorway.” Calpurnia rubs her eyes on the heel of her hand, inhaling sharply. Portia rests her forehead on the bony, un-bruised bit of Calpurnia’s shoulder. </p><p>“You need a better boyfriend. Jesus fucking Christ, I’m going to tear his eyes out.” Portia runs her fingers around the bruise, studying the browns and greens and purples. </p><p>“<em> I </em>need a better boyfriend?” Calpurnia laughs, but it’s sad and not quite right. </p><p>“See, the difference is I’m also a shitty girlfriend. You,” Portia says, placing her finger under Calpurnia’s chin and gently guiding her head to face her, “are a perfect, loving, extraordinary girlfriend, and he’s a <em> fucking </em> dick who doesn’t deserve you.”</p><p>Calpurnia sniffles, once, twice, then she composes herself, grasps Portia’s wrist, and nods. </p><p>“Thanks, Portia.”</p><p>“No problem. Now eat your fries, close your eyes, and let the music eat your soul,” Portia responds, cranking the volume once again. </p><p> </p><p>iv.</p><p>Portia runs her fingers over the hood of her car. Calpurnia dangles her feet off the roof, watching the fading light bounce off the waves in speckles. </p><p>“Happy birthday,” Calpurnia says, the side of her hand pressing against Portia’s. </p><p>“Happy birthday to me! Fuck, I’m a <em> legal adult </em>. Now I have to vote.” Portia lets her pinky finger drift over Calpurnia’s and hook on. </p><p>“You can also get a tattoo without parental consent. Or buy scissors in the UK,” Calpurnia offers. She slides her sunglasses off her face, the soft wind pushing around loose strands of her hair. </p><p>“One, that’s not true, two, you don’t need permission if you do it yourself, but thanks,” Portia says, clicking her tongue. Calpurnia gives her a quizzical grin. The setting sun casts a warm honey glow across the planes of her face, tracing the soft arches and angles. Portia almost runs her finger across Calpurnia’s face to feel it too. </p><p>“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” Calpurnia says, squeezing Portia’s pinky. </p><p>“I don’t take my jacket off. You don’t even know if I actually have <em> arms </em> . I’ll show you, <em> if </em>we go swimming,” Portia barters, crossing her legs and leaning in an inch closer. Calpurnia laughs. </p><p>“<em> Only </em>because it’s your birthday,” Calpurnia says, hopping off the roof. Portia grins. </p><p>Calpurnia’s bathing suit is a minty teal, bright and shiny and elaborate, of course. Portia gazes a bit longingly at Calpurnia’s solitary, professional tattoo, before tossing off her leather jacket. It’s followed by her shirt and pants, leaving her in her swimsuit too, short swim trunks and a cropped but sturdy swim top. </p><p>“Is that my flowers?” Calpurnia remarks, staring at the pattern on Portia’s leg. “You should have told me we had matching tattoos. That’s sweet. Also, I had no idea you were...so strong?” </p><p>Calpurnia’s eyes skate over Portia’s defined muscles. Portia fights her blush. “Thanks, but these flowers are the dollar store version of yours,” Portia says, gesturing at her leg and Calpurnia’s ankle. “I don’t think you want to compare yours to mine.”</p><p>“Nonsense. I like it. It’s pretty impressive,” Calpurnia says, her eyes catching on the words that litter Portia’s ribcage, right between each rib. “What are those?”</p><p>“They’re just words I like,” Portia answers, pointing to each as she lists, “Honey, lies, love me, power, control, babe, quiet. Plenty of room for more, if you’ve got suggestions.”</p><p>“I’ll think about it. Is that a candy heart?” </p><p>Portia holds out her forearm. “Yep. Happy Valentine’s day.”</p><p>It goes like that, for a while, Portia helpfully pointing out each greying, slightly blurry drawing as Calpurnia comments on them, but then Portia runs out of tattoos and the wind picks up, so they take to the water. </p><p>Calpurnia wades in cautiously. Portia launches herself into the warm, silky water, letting it envelop her. She flicks water at Calpurnia, who flicks back, and it takes barely a minute until they’re both fully soaked and laughing. </p><p>Calpurnia is beautiful in this light, Portia decides. </p><p>Portia stands, waist-deep, peering at the sand, trying to figure out if that’s a shell or a rock, when Calpurnia’s fingers come to rest ever so gently on the back of her shoulder. Her heart jolts. That’s where her last tattoo is, the one she didn’t show Cal, and <em> fuck </em>, it’s hard to remember to cover up when you’re used to a leather jacket always. The little double-venus is old, faded, but still clear. </p><p>Calpurnia’s arms wrap around Portia’s waist, slowly, and Portia can hear both their breaths, heavy but sharp. It takes a moment for Calpurnia’s lips to settle where her fingers were, a kiss right on Portia’s shoulder. </p><p>Portia thinks her soul might as well have left her body then. </p><p>Calpurnia turns her around in her arms and rests her forehead against Portia’s with a soft exhale. Portia stares into Calpurnia’s wide, warm eyes for a moment before kissing her, her hands on Calpurnia’s cheeks, on her tiptoes to even the height difference. It’s soft, and it’s gentle, and it’s careful, and it bursts like fizzy water through Portia’s brain, and she never was good at words but now they float disjointed through her mind. The sand shifts under her toes and she moves again and Calpurnia recalculates and if Portia lets go she'll fall limp to the water and wash away with the waves.</p><p>They don't move for a long time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>edit: changed the ending a lil bc it sucked lmao</p></blockquote></div></div>
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